


The Lead Lined Blindfold

by Evilpixie



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilpixie/pseuds/Evilpixie
Summary: Bruce makes a lead lined blindfold. Clark is both scared and horny.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 34
Kudos: 351
Collections: DC Universe





	The Lead Lined Blindfold

It was bigger than Clark had imagined, and heavier. The straps thick and industrial, the metal crudely welded together, the inside lined with dense black felt. Nothing like the small sleek sex toys Bruce had been slowly introducing into the bedroom over the last couple of weeks.

He turned it over in his hand, aware he was being scrutinised, and held it up to his face.

“Does it work?”

It did. Clark was using his x-ray vision but all he could see was darkness. It was unnerving. He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said again and lowered the blindfold so he could look at the other man.

Bruce Wayne.

Batman.

His best friend.

And, for the last few months, something more. Something they hadn’t gotten around to defining yet.

Bruce was standing by the bed in formal dress pants and shirt. The shirt was untucked and the first few buttons undone, exposing his collarbone. That small vulnerable piece of flesh was sexier than it had any right to be.

“If you don’t want to use it that’s okay,” Bruce told him, voice soft but somehow still resonating. His eyes were flicking back and forth, no doubt picking up all the minute details of Clark’s expression, trying to determine exactly how he was feeling.

Clark wish he knew the answer to that question himself.

A part of him was excited. Excited to try something new with Bruce. Excited to show Bruce how much he trusted him. Excited to put himself in however small a way in his power. But another part of him was nervous. He’d never been blind before. Not really. Even when his eyes were closed he could look through his eyelids and see the world beyond whenever he wanted to.

This mix of metal, felt, and leather would put a stop to that.

The thought made him shiver.

He was being ridiculous. It was just a blindfold. Lots of people used blindfolds in the bedroom. Hell, he was pretty sure plenty of them wouldn’t even consider it kinky. It wasn’t like Bruce was going to lock him up in kryptonite chains or anything. He could rip it off anytime he wanted to. That was what Bruce had said when they’d first discussed the possibility weeks ago. And yet…

“Let’s put it away,” Bruce suggested. “We can talk about it another night.” He put his hand on the blindfold and tried to pull it from Clark’s grip.

Clark held on.

He wanted it. Despite the tangle of nerves inside him, despite the irrational fear of losing one of his many powers, despite everything… he wanted to experience this with Bruce. He wanted to know what it would be like to be, in however small a way, at the mercy of the other man. He wanted that more than was probably normal or healthy to want something.

“Let’s try it.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure?”

"Yes."

"Really? You don't have to go through with this if-"

"Bruce. I want this. Trust me."

"I do. I just-"

Clark kissed him.

A part of him still thrilled at being able to do that.

For years he’d wanted Bruce. For years he thought he couldn’t have him. For years he lived with that, made peace with it. But ever since that fateful night two months ago things had changed. Bruce had been hurt. Not seriously, but that didn’t matter. He’d taken a risk he shouldn’t have. Put himself in danger. It could have been so much worse. Clark told Bruce that. Or, more actually, yelled it at him. Bruce told him to back the fuck off and mind his own business. Clark wasn’t sure what he’d said after that. Something about Justice League being his business, and Bruce was more important than the rest of them combined. It wasn’t important. What was important was what happened next. Bruce had grabbed him so hard Clark had thought he was being attacked. He tensed for it. But instead of a fist Bruce had touched him with his lips, hard and hungry.

That kiss had been a revelation.

As had every day since.

Bruce pulled back and gently stroked the side of Clark’s face. “Okay. I trust you. We can try it.”

Clark grinned.

“But first,” Bruce’s voice dropped. No longer soft. No longer careful. “Naked. Now.”

Clark’s mouth went dry. The tension inside him twisted into a knot. Both his fear and desire tangled together.

_Fuck yes._

He pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it away across the room. Next came the pants. He floated so he could pull them down off his legs… and because he knew Bruce liked seeing him use his powers. He could hear it in the slight uptick in Bruce’s normally steady heartbeat. The shoes he tore from his feet and his underwear he dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

When he was completely naked, Bruce pulled off his own shirt. But only his shirt. It didn’t matter. He was magnificent. Long lean muscle, strong straight limbs. The perfect symmetry of it was destroyed by a criss-cross of scars, some old, others still painfully new. But that didn’t detract from his beauty. In fact, it enhanced it.

Clark was half hard already. He resisted the urge to cup himself.

“Stay still,” Bruce said and began to walk around him, his footfalls near silent on the carpeted floor. Clark pushed down the part of him that wanted to turn his head and kept his face aimed directly forward. Still, as instructed. His obedience was rewarded by a body, hard and strong, pressed against Clark’s bare back.

“Bruce,” he sighed.

An arm slid around Clark’s middle. Lips found his neck. A hint of teeth behind those lips.

_Fuck_ it felt good. But, before Clark could really start to enjoy it, Bruce pulled back and looped the blindfold around Clark’s neck, clipping the straps together but keeping it loose enough to hang like a necklace.

Clark sucked in a sharp breath.

Bruce paused for a moment, let Clark get used to the weight of it.

When his breathing began to steady Bruce kissed him again and slowly pulled it up, rested it over Clark’s eyes. "This okay?"

"Yes."

Bruce pulled the straps tight. A sharp sudden motion.

And just like that, he was blind.

It… wasn’t so bad… He could still hear everything this side of the equator. He could still smell Bruce’s thick musk as the man adjusted and tightened the straps. He could still feel him behind him, the heat of his body warming Clark’s skin.

Yeah. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this.

“Float. On your back.”

Clark lifted off the carpet and rolled obediently backwards, shivering with delight as Bruce’s arms found and guided him.

“Like this?” Clark asked.

“Yes. Stay there. Don’t move.”

Bruce’s hands left him.

Clark stayed and listened as the other man walked across the room to open and close some cupboards. Something rasped as it was set down on a surface. Something else thumped. A third thing rattled. The sounds were as intriguing as they were terrifying.

Clark’s cock was getting steadily harder.

But, in among all that, he was still adjusting to the position Bruce had left him in. He was naked, floating, and blind. That meant nothing was touching him except the blindfold and the air. That, paired with the isolating inability to see, was making his nerves from earlier spring back. He fought them down. Barely.

Bruce was coming back. His footsteps slow and steady. When he got to him he paused. That was somehow worse than hearing him on the other side of the room. Clark knew he was there. He could hear his heart. But he didn’t know exactly what Bruce was doing. Was he looking at him? Was he getting something ready? Was he—?

A finger slid down Clark’s sternum.

Clark shuddered. No. He didn’t shudder. He _shook_.

Bruce made a small sound. Something between a grunt and a sigh. He took Clark’s wrists and pulled them above his head.

“B-Bruce?”

“Keep them there.”

That was easier said than done. Clark didn’t think he was an instinctual sort of person but being blind, naked, with his sides exposed made the animal in him recoil. He was vulnerable. Except he wasn’t. He was Superman. Even if Bruce attacked him with a chainsaw he’d be fine. But, despite that, it felt like every nerve in his body was on edge.

Perhaps that was the point.

Bruce’s hand slid over his abdominal muscles, gentle, and sending a surge of sensation coursing through Clark.

_“Ah…”_ He arched into it, shivering. _“Ah…”_

The hand on him went from soft to savage in an instant, raking nails down his skin.

_“AH!”_ Forget half hard. He was rock hard now, and aching. _God_. He felt that in his _atoms_. _“Bruce._ This feels…”

“Intense? I thought it might. Blindfolds heighten sensation in those of us with normal vision. For you…” Bruce’s hand, gentle once more, glided over Clark’s nipple.

He yelped and bucked.

“…I can only imagine.”

What followed was about twenty minutes of the most intense physical feeling of Clark’s life. It was mostly just Bruce’s hands – sometimes soft, sometimes firm, sometimes targeted, sometimes seemingly random in the routes they took across Clark’s body – but was often intercut with other things. A feather, both the soft and the sharp end. The slide of a silk ribbon, quickly followed by the coarse rasp hemp rope. A naked flame, nothing that could hurt Clark, but which made his skin tingle with warmth… immediately followed by ice.

It was a game of contrasts and unpredictability.

And all this while Bruce avoided the one thing Clark really wanted him to touch. His cock, now agonisingly hard and leaking a puddle of precome onto his abdomen.

“Bruce,” he panted. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“Shh.”

“I’m serious. I’m so hard right now.”

A mouth against the side of Clark’s face. He jerked in surprise and then thrashed uselessly in the air as Bruce began to weave some impossibly intricate pattern onto Clark’s neck with his lips.

“Ah. _Oh fuh_ … I swear to God if you won’t touch me I will.”

Bruce stopped suddenly. “No, you won’t.”

_“Bruce.”_

“You’re going to stay still for me,” Bruce purred. “Just like this.” Lower. “You’re so fucking hot right now. You have no idea. I’m so hard just looking at you. Stay like this. Just…” His mouth returned to Clark’s neck.

It was torturous. It was amazing. It was everything he could ever want. It would be the end of him.

Clark was shaking so much it was a miracle Bruce could keep his lips on him. Perhaps he was struggling because the next thing Clark knew Bruce was straddling him. The intensity of having a body on him – weight, heat, and hardness – after so long of just fleeting touches made him moan out loud.

“Still,” Bruce whispered. “That’s it. Shh…”

“Bruce. This is—”

Bruce kissed him. If anyone was watching they probably wouldn’t have thought much of that kiss. Clark didn’t need his eyes to know it didn’t look like much. Just a simple press of lips on lips. But the force behind it, the hunger, the way Bruce opened and deepened it, how their tongues somehow ended up sliding together, not elegantly, but desperately… that was indescribably perfect.

He couldn’t stay still. He had to move. He had to hold him.

He wrapped his arms around Bruce.

The man growled and bit Clark’s bottom lip.

It didn’t matter. Bruce was holding him too and they were grinding up against each other. Still floating, but also tangling their limbs together, gripping each other, desperate for friction and finding it in each other’s bodies.

Bruce was still in his pants. The thick expensive fabric felt amazing to thrust against.

_I’m going to ruin them,_ Clark thought. _I’m going to come all over those stupid thousand dollar pants. Then I’m going to rip them off you and swallow your cock whole_. He didn’t say any of that out loud because it would have meant breaking his face away from Bruce’s and there was nothing on the planet that could make him do that. Not just then. Not when…

“Ah…” he breathed and squeezed Bruce’s hips, pulling him snug against him and began to thrust. _“Ah.”_

There was nothing but Bruce. Floating, naked, blind, all he could feel was Bruce. All he _knew_ was Bruce. Bruce writhing against him, Bruce panting in his ear, Bruce trying to reconnect their lips. _Fucking God_. Just that, Bruce wriggling and stretching up for another kiss, was almost enough to make Clark come.

He needed to see him. The urge hit him like a wave. Strong, undeniable.

Bruce had told him he wouldn’t stop Clark removing the blindfold. _Anytime you want. You can just reach up and rip it off._ That’s what he’d said. That was fine. But doing it without taking his hands away from Bruce’s flesh… that was a little trickier.

“Clark,” Bruce gasped.

The sound of that went right to the core of him. _He needed to see that. He needed to..._

He reached up, tangled a hand in Bruce’s hair, and pulled his head away. Then, with a burst of heat vision, the blindfold was falling away in pieces. He could see. And what he saw he knew he would remember forever. Bruce, astride him, snarling, body heaving, eyes shining silver, coming into his pants. It was perfect. Every cell in his body was perfect. The single drop of sweat on his brow was perfect. The line where he stopped shaving. The mess of scars. The bunched muscle. All of it, utterly perfect.

Before Clark realised what he was doing he’d pinned Bruce against the floor. No, not the floor. There was no carpet. But there was a light fitting. The ceiling. He’d pinned Bruce against the ceiling and was grinding against him hard while Bruce continued to come, panting in his ear.

_“Yes. Clark. Yes…”_

It was a good thing they were in a penthouse because Clark was thrusting against Bruce’s thigh hard enough to drive him into the roof.

He wished he was fucking him. That wasn’t something they’d tried yet. Bruce had fucked him several times, but he’d never fucked Bruce. They’d talked about it, briefly, but so far it hadn’t come up in their sexual encounters. Maybe it wasn’t something Bruce was seriously interested in. Or maybe, if he ripped Bruce’s pants off and pulled those musclebound legs around him Bruce would keep whispering _yes_ into his ear. Maybe that whisper would turn into a scream as Clark slid into him.

That fantasy combined with the truth, with Bruce in his arms, still quaking through the aftermath of his orgasm, was enough to tip him over the edge.

He came harder than maybe he’d ever come before, coating them both hot ribbons of semen, groaning and gripping and grinding and grunting…

“Shh,” Bruce gentled him through it. His hands warm and soft. “Shh. Easy. Let go. I need you to let go.”

" _Ah!_ Bru-"

"Clark. Listen, baby. I need you to let go. Let go now."

Clark didn’t understand what he was saying, mind so thoroughly blitzed out on orgasm, until Bruce reached around and gently pried Clark’s fingers from his thigh. Horror rocked through him. _Oh God…_ Clark snatched his hand away as if he’d been burnt. He’d been holding Bruce too tight. He’d never done that before, not with Bruce, not with anyone. He’d never forgotten himself in the middle of sex like that before.

“It’s okay,” Bruce said softly despite the bruises Clark could see welling up beneath the fabric of his pants. “I liked it. I would have stopped you sooner if I didn’t. It’s okay.”

“But…” he could barely talk. His whole body, to his shame, still shaking with the tail end of his orgasm.

“It’s okay,” Bruce said again and pushed his lips against his. Soft, warm, loving.

“I could have… ah… hurt you.” He managed between kisses.

“Clark,” Bruce was smiling. “You let go of me mid orgasm, you turned my face away before burning off the blindfold, and haven’t let me fall. You could hurt me, but I know you won’t. Just like I could have pulled kryptonite out of my draw when you put the blindfold on…”

“…I knew you wouldn’t.” Clark said. “I didn’t even think that.”

“Exactly,” Bruce breathed. “I trust you.”

Bruce reconnected their kiss. This time Clark didn’t break it. He held him, kissed him, and slowly, cautiously, floated back to the ground to lie on the plush carpet. Once Bruce felt the floor he rolled off and paused to study a still smouldering piece of the blindfold with a critical eye.

“Sorry,” Clark said sheepishly.

“It was a prototype. I can make something better. Assuming you enjoyed it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I did too. I made it with a thick layer of lead. I don’t know if that’s necessary. We’ll need to do some tests to figure out exactly how much lead renders you blind. It will be good information to know from a tactical standpoint too, especially if we end up fighting other Kryptonitans. With less lead we can make…”

How Bruce could talk about battle strategy while sitting there covered in semen Clark had no idea. But he was enjoying the show.

“I’m going to need you to clean this up.”

“I can lick you clean if you like,” Clark teased.

“As tempting as that is, I was referring to the pieces of the blindfold.”

“Huh? Oh… sure… I can do that.” Bruce had never asked him to clean up before. Why would he do it now? With this one particular thing? The answer was so obvious Clark was ashamed he hadn’t thought of it before. _Lead_. When he used his heat vision he ripped up the metal that was encasing it.

He sat up. “Shit! Be careful. Don’t touch anything.”

“I can touch lead without being instantly poisoned,” Bruce said drily.

“Still…”

“I’ll leave it to you,” he promised, stood, stretched, and headed for the shower. “When you’re finished come and join me. I have some more ideas I’d like to discuss.” The tone on his voice was back to being low, commanding. It sent shivers through Clark’s body.

“I’ll be there in five minutes!” He called.

He was there in three.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling a little down lately on account of the obscene amount of bushfire smoke that I have been living in for the last couple of months. Don't worry. I'm okay. Well... as okay as one can be while witnessing the start of the climate apocalypse. At least if it was a zombie apocalypse I would be able to breathe and/or shoot those responsible. But, on the plus side, I am not about to die.
> 
> So, in the wake of my continued existence, I thought I'd write this as a little pick me up. I really hope you like it. Thanks for reading, and thanks in advance to those that comment. I really love (and miss!) hearing from you guys. :-)


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